


Every Question is a Leading Question

by deathwailart



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, On the Run, Road Trips, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1456864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint finds Natasha (or rather she finds him) after the events of The Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Question is a Leading Question

Of course it's when he finally takes a day off (a real day off, not the sort of day off a lot of them were "offered" after New York when he went to the counselling and still left wondering if his head was his) that it all goes to hell. A day off where he eats leftover pizza when he gets up late, goes to the range, does some practice and walks the dog. Then suddenly secrets are trending on twitter, Stark is blowing up his phone (not literally but honestly the amount it keeps vibrating and it's a near thing and no, Clint doesn't want to know how Tony got his number in the first place) and her cover is blown and that stops him dead. Natasha's cover is blown and she's on TV and there are more immediate concerns he guesses in that sort of grand scheme way like his employers a) being gone, b) having all their secrets (at least three texts that he can see are about him being exposed just like everything else and c) that apparently he wasn't working for who he thought he was working for but that's background noise. Natasha's cover is blown, actually every single cover Natasha has ever had is blown and considering he was the guy sent to deal with her, he considers himself complicit.  
  
He shuts off the TV, turns his phone off and heads to the bedroom to start packing, clicking nails following him and Lucky jumps up on the bed as soon as he's thrown two impressive holdalls onto them. The dog whines and Clint manages a smile because if a dog is sad, you can't be sad, it'd be too much and the universe would implode; when man is sad, dog offers comfort. It just makes sense that when dog is sad, man offers comfort as he loads weapons into bags and tries to figure out what the hell he's even packing for. Not for him because he's pretty much good in whatever but Natasha is different but beggars can't be choosers so he piles in what he hopes is enough and well they can always go get more.  
  
"C'mon boy, mom and dad," Nat would kill him if she knew he was talking to his (in actual fact theirs because obviously Lucky adores Natasha and somehow mysteriously when he's late he comes back to Natasha rolling around on the floor with him or letting him up on the couch to watch TV with her) dog like that about her, "are going on a road trip!"  
  
Silently, Clint thanks god his dog loves cars.  
  
So it's Clint up front with the radio on low, the quiet buzz of background noise as he weaves through the traffic, Lucky in the back between the bags, lunging forward whenever Clint stops for food over the next few days. Stark is still texting but it's interspersed with messages from Thor – emails because Thor is actually damn wordy – and Banner leaves him a voicemail that has Stark yelling in the background and Clint should _really_ check in but it's radio silence from Natasha. Clint knows how to find her though, even driving around with two bags and a dog in the back and a phone he's considering shooting except it's nice to know that people care even if it's a stream of nicknames from Tony and bad jokes and Thor's earnest texts and Bruce's quiet sighs saying he's sorry and that if he needs anything then he knows they'll be there for him. He tries to tell himself he's not panicking when he checks into a stream of motels using cash and keeping his sunglasses on and his hat low but Lucky nudges him and wags his tail and Clint scratches him behind his ears and doesn't really sleep.  
  
\---  
  
A week after Clint basically loses his job and effectively goes on the run he jerks awake in another shitty motel to find Natasha clambering in through his window with a grin.  
  
"Hey," she greets like it hasn't been a week, like shit hasn't hit the fan because y'know Fury and the Winter Soldier (he's never going to be over that, the Winter Soldier has always been the whispered horror story everyone tries to pretend they've forgotten about) and Captain America the fugitive and S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra, "I need to borrow your shower."  
  
"I packed our own towels," he replies, gesturing to one of the bags and she drags the whole thing through with one hand, getting Lucky by the muzzle to press a kiss to the top of his head before she's gone. Clint shoots the dog a look of utter betrayal. "I see how it is," he tells him but lets the dog hop up on the bed because it's a motel and Lucky's cleaner than a lot of people Clint knows. He switches the TV on because he might as well and sits up – can't exactly have a shower right now, he didn't hear the door lock but there wasn't an invitation and he gets it, this is how it works with them – and pretends he cares about the stock market until Natasha emerges. She's towel drying her hair, barefoot in jeans and one of his t-shirts that she stole way back, smiling before giving her bag enough of a kick to send it back into the room proper.  
  
"Hey," she says again, hopping up next to him on the bed as she turns the volume up more because motel walls and every cover she's ever had is out there for the world to see, "you're rusty."  
  
"Please, you haven't had to drive with Stark obnoxiously texting you. Did you know that Thor emails too? You know actual emails with grammar, it's weird outside of work."  
  
"Huh, should've asked more about Asgard." She leans her head on his shoulder, her hair still damp and she's tired, she probably hasn't slept since all this started, since the attack on Fury.  
  
"Get some sleep."  
  
"We should get going."  
  
"Nat—"  
  
"Don't you _Nat_ me," she complains, giving him a shove, "you're the one that took a week."  
  
"I had Stark, Thor and Banner getting in touch. A dog," he hears the thump of Lucky wagging his tail, "oh and I lost my job?"  
  
"Sorry about that, but I think I warned you about that once."  
  
He snorts and gives her a shove back before putting an arm around her so she can tuck herself closer to him as he kisses the top of her head. She sighs, still trying to fight it because hell he remembers what happened after Loki was in his head, remembers the blame game and her being there and he might not be in full possession of the facts here but he knows her. Knows them.  
  
"Nat get some sleep okay? Whatever you need to do you'll do it better when you've slept. We'll get in the car, get bagels and coffee, we'll talk it out." It's what they've done every time something's hit them too close to home but she's still too tense and he wants to go grab his bow, wants to just lose himself in kicking as many asses as he has to to get to the bottom of this but right now that's not an option and more importantly, that's not what she needs. "Should I be jealous?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Please, you know what, one bird in your life not enough?"  
  
She snorts and smacks him hard in the chest with an open palm and he laughs, letting himself fall back as he gathers her so she's on top, hands going to her shoulders and neck to find all the knots of tension. There's a mutter about how this is a dirty tactic and he grins because yeah she should know, he learned some of his moves from her in the first place. Eventually she falls asleep, a wrinkle between her brows and he shuts the TV off, dragging a hand down his face. It's not going to be easy or fun and he's glad he's pretty much packed as much of their lives as he can into two bags and a car that he'll ditch soon in favour of something else but she's here (he's not going to kid himself that she's okay, he knows her, knows her looks, knows the Russian she's murmuring as he rubs circles on her back) and he can live lean. They've done it a hundred times before and they might not have S.H.I.E.L.D but they've got friends and each other. So Clint leaves through the front and she's already in the driver's side when he gets down there, throwing the bags in the back as Lucky hops in too, barking happily, the climbs in, flipping the radio to a station she hates because she's here and he can.  
  
She smacks his hand, guns the engine and casually suggests that maybe Stark can make him into the angry bird he's destined to be. His outrage is genuine, the hurt melodramatic and she laughs, sounding a little more like the woman he knows.  
  
"So...do I get to know what I'm dealing with here?" He asks at last, wary because he knows her better than anyone else out there. She looks over, sighs and nods and Clint settles in for the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Rules of Evidence by Lee Robinson
> 
> Also, not a comics person beyond browsing the wiki and Clint, Natasha and a dog on a road trip on the run from everyone is fun okay?


End file.
